A Different Dissonance: A Victorian Justice League Scientific-Romance
by Dr. Clayton Forrester
Summary: It is the Victorian Age. Yet, this world is not like our own. People of abilities and means beyond mortal ken are appearing in great numbers. And three heroes, united by destiny and bonds unknown to them, are thrust into the changing landscape of 19th Century Earth in the throes of social upheaval and change. And Earth will never be the same again. A Victorian JL AU/Elseworlds.
1. Prologue: Three of Great Import

_**Prologue: **_  
**_Three of Great Import_**

"_It is something great and greatening to cherish an ideal; to act in the light of truth that is far-away and far above; to set aside the near advantage, the momentary pleasure; the snatching of seeming good to self; and to act for remoter ends, for higher good, and for interests other than our own_."  
-Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain

_In Which Our Story Begins •  
In Which A Curious Star Falls To Earth • In Which A Promising Son Is Born • In Which A Clay Figure Is Given Life_

It wasn't a falling star that fell on the farmlands outside Smallville, Ohio [1], but something rather different in nature. Had the circumstances of that June 12th, 1840 been different, perhaps someone else would have discovered what the star actually was...or perhaps no-one ever would have. However, the fates had something else in mind, and it would be a local farmer out on his nightly rounds of his homestead.

Johnathan Eben Kent [2] was from a long-line of farmers, his father and grandfather and great-grandfather all having at some point tilled the soil, whether it was his great-grandfather Fredrick back in Yorkshire or his own father having been the first in the family to till the soil in this state. Farming was in his blood, though he'd been having thoughts of perhaps opening a store in nearby Smallville. But such thoughts were pushed aside as he continued his rounds, checking to make sure the chickens were all asleep in their henhouse, that the few cows were quietly resting in the barn with the horses, and the other things that needed to be done before dinner and sleep.

However, his chores were interrupted by the sound of something whistling in the distance, growing louder into a roar. Glancing up in surprise, he saw what looked like a falling star passing overheard, rocketing towards the western-fields. Watching it arc, he saw and heard it land, a dull thud, barely perceptible in the earth traveling through the ground and up his body.

" What on earth could that be?" he said, stroking his beard. Deciding that he might as well make sure it didn't set fire to things, having heard that some of these falling stars were incredibly hot with what remained, he didn't need his wheat field burning down, just when he was sure a good crop was going to come in this year, perhaps enough to get that hole the porch roof fixed proper this time or getting a new plow blade. Dusting his hands off, he grabbed his lantern and began tromping off in the direction of the fallen star.

Knowing the fields well, having grown up in them since he was a small boy, Johnathan found the object in short order, barely a five minute walk from the edge of the fields near the house proper. Course, finding it turned out to make things more confusing than he anticipated. Instead of some rock, he found what looked like a oblong, brass colored object, with blackened windows near one end, and a mass of pipes and funnels near the other end, though a large portion of the object was covered in dirt and debris from the impact. Making his way closer, what appeared to be steam was venting out of some of those pipes. However, as he moved closer, what looked like a saucer on a thin piece of wire, popped out, and a bright flash of light blinded him for a second.

" What in blazes..." he said, struggling to see through the spots of light dancing before his eyes. A strange sound came from the object, and a panel near one of the black windows opened. As Jonathan managed to regain his senses, he suddenly found himself not in his wheat field, but in the midst of what looked to be a great city, with towering buildings, of greens and whites and blues and other colors, and people in strange garb. He could only stand gaping at the scene that surrounded him. However, he managed to realize someone was trying to speak, though not in any language he understood.

" _Ren farh kenai lu'ai raskh...ertin frin_." a figure standing to one side was saying, but as it repeated the phrase, it seemed to slip into English.

" _Whoever is listening to this message, this craft contains the last survivor of our world_."

The bearded and white-haired speaker, for Johnathan could make him out clearly, being the only one garbed in dark blue and white in this place, gestured to the craft.

" _My son, sent that some remnant of our world be preserved somewhere. A world gone now, through the destruction of our worlds core. I ask he be raised among you. Perhaps, perhaps he may prevent the same complacency that allowed our people to die. He will be different from the peoples of your world, your worlds sun granting him abilities beyond that known to your world. I hope that whoever finds him as you would one of your own." _

Johnathan was still trying to understand half of what was going on, the amount of information and the late hour making his judgement and ability to keep up with everything lessened somewhat. Perhaps having planned for this eventuality, the saucer on the wire aimed in his direction again, and a flood of information, enough to convince him this wasn't some hoax, was suddenly flashing through his brain.

" Dear god..." he said, as he saw visions of this other worlds destruction, taken during the moments before this craft had been sent on its voyage. While not familiar with the energies required to destroy a planet, Johnathan had no trouble understanding that the death of this other world had been total. As he stared down at the craft, the blackened windows slid back into the craft, showing its occupant, a sleeping baby boy, barely six months old as far as he could tell, and already showing a fine crop of black hair. The lad turned over in the small space where he lay, and yawned. Seeing this, Johnathan gave a little smile.

" I suppose I should take you back home...won't do to leave you in this thing tonight or at all.." the farmer said, more to himself than to the child. Gently picking the lad up, he carefully swaddled him up in the few blankets that were inside the craft, and picked up his lantern. Now, to make his way back to the house, Martha, and figuring out what to do next. Sighing somewhat, he thought mainly on her reaction to all this. Having lost their first and only child Samantha only a few weeks after her birth, it had been hard on both of them. But perhaps...perhaps this child might help the both of them. For now though, he'd have to keep the childs true origin secret from her. Sky-children were not something brought up at the dinner table. Perhaps telling an altered version of the truth, that he had been left on the edge of the property in a basket, perhaps by someone who couldn't take care of him.

Yes, that would do as a cover, until he could move that object in the fields to a better place, and prepare Martha for the truth. As he got closer to the farm, he could see her in the kitchen, patiently waiting. Well, better get it over with. Moving out of the field, he briskly walked up to the side door and knocked.

" Johnathan? Is that you?"

" Yes dear...got a bit of a surprise for you..."

He heard his wife come over to the door, and unlatch the lock. Swinging into the house, the door allowed him to see her, and her to see him.

" Johnathan, what have you got there?"

He held the boy out to her. Her face underwent several changes. Surprise, confusion, joy, sadness, and concern.

" Someone left him in a basket in the western edge of the property. Didn't see who did. No note, no nothing beyond him, those blankets, and the basket."

She was still stunned, and was looking at the child.

" I couldn't leave him out there. And...well, I thought, what with, the difficulties, and no one claiming him, we might take him in. The nearest orphanage is all the way up in Maumee."

She nodded, but took the child. Finally, she spoke.

" I prayed that perhaps we might have a child, but I feared...after...after Samantha, I thought the Lord hadn't heard. But...here, he's answered."

Johnathan scratched the back of his neck, and thought that sounded as good as anything regarding the events...certainly, the boy was heaven sent in one manner.

" I suppose, dear. But if we do keep him, he's got to have a name, don't he?"

She nodded.

" Yes. How about Clark Atticus Kent ?"[3]

" Naming him after grandfather Clark and uncle Atticus? Sure is nice sounding name..."

Martha nodded, and held the boy closer. Clark Atticus Kent slept on, unaware of how much his life had changed. And Johnathan thought about what he had learned, and pondered if there were other worlds beyond the one this lad had come from...and what that meant for this world if others came here.

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

Gotham City was a city clothed in darkness at the best of times. Perhaps this had to due with its persistent cloud cover, which covered the sky almost all year round. Adding to that was the man made clouds and smog of what William Blake may have referred to as "Dark Satanic Mills" coming from the cities industrial centers. Steel mills, shipping yards, railways, and other forms of mass industry covered the skies with black smoke and steam. And it was in this city, that one Bruce Anthony Wayne was born. At the time however, it would be the worry of his father, one Thomas Solomon Wayne [4] about the state of affairs as he paced outside the central guest room in Wayne Manor, hands wringing in anticipation and worry. The families trusted butler/valet Alfred Pennyworth was dusting a nearby grandfather clock, his own concern being put to use doing menial chores. Sitting in a chair nearby sat Thomas Wayne's freedman secretary Lucius Fox, who held Mr. Waynes leather document bag in his hands, quietly waiting along with the other two men.

From inside the room, the muffled sounds of the doctor and the nurse who had accompanied him, as well as the cries of Thomas Waynes wife, Martha. He kept wringing his hands in concern, worried about all the variables that might happen. Alfred continued dusting, and Lucius was glancing through some paperwork about the Wayne Industries purchase of Jacobs Shipping and Transport. All three men had their way of dealing with the stress, and knowing that the best course of action was to wait.

Finally, after the longest time, the door opened and Doctor Trevor Kenwall stepped out, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair a mess. However, the smile on his face gave the three men in the hall a raise in spirits.

" A healthy baby boy, Mr. Wayne. And Mrs. Wayne's fine as well, though she'll need a lot of bed rest mind you. Even a successful delivery like this one, the mothers not going to be moving about for about a week as she used to." he said, while straightening his tie. "And, I can't take all the credit for the delivery. Nurse Thompkins [5] helped a lot."

Said nurse could be seen behind him doing the last minute cleaning and packing of the equipment.

" Anyways, I'll be back to check on your wife and son in a few days, make sure they're all healthy and what not. I suggest you find a room in this house with a good airflow, but not drafty. Don't want the lad to get too warm or too cold."

Thomas nodded.

" Now you can go see them. Just don't overtire her or the child." the doctor warned. He placed his top-hat on his head and his cloak around his shoulders.

" If anything changes in the childs behavior or health, don't be afraid to have me come over. But I believe the little lad will be alright. Come along Nurse Thompkins [4], we've got to see Miss McCready on Wilshire and Jasmine about that cough she's developed."

With that, Thomas Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth and Lucius Fox were left alone as the doctor and his nurse left.

" I believe, Mr. Fox and I can wait, Master Wayne, before seeing the child. Besides, I believe Mistress Wayne will wish to see you first."

Thomas Wayne nodded, and quietly entered the room where his wife and son were. At first it looked like both were asleep, but then his wife turned, and smiled.

" He's handsome, dear. Just like his father."

She turned a little more so that the bundle in her arms was more visible. Thomas motioned if it was okay to hold the child. She nodded yes. Taking the child gently, Thomas noticed the boy looked like both his parents. He had his mothers nose, but his own chin and ears. Indeed, he could spend hours staring at his son, trying to figure out who in the family he resembled, but he knew that Martha would wish to have their son back for a bit. He smiled, and handed the child back to her.

" What should we name him?"

" Hmmm...how about Anthony as his middle name? [6] And perhaps Bruce, after your father." he said. She nodded.

" Yes...I rather like it. Bruce suits him."

Thomas Wayne stared down at his wife for a second, before speaking again.

" Do you mind if Lucius and Alfred see him briefly?"

She shook her head.

" They're welcome to see him...just not to long, I'm very tired."

" Of course dear." Thomas Wayne said, before making his way to the door, and inviting the two other men in. He was ecstatic to be a father, but decorum and consideration for his wife and childs tiredness required that he keep calm for now. But he knew, in his heart, that his son was destined for great things.

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

On a small island, somewhere in the south-western Atlantic ocean, a ritual was underway that was old and new. A long stretch of beach, beautiful as any place untainted by the rest of the worlds industry and capacity for pollution, was currently being occupied by three women. One wore a golden tiara, ornate, but not overly so. The second wore a long gown, and carried several scrolls under her arms. And finally, the third wore armor and carried a long spear and short-sword, looking on as the two other women consulted each other. The light from the small fire burning nearby flickered and sparked occasionally, its embers dying down.

Phillipus, Captain of the Amazonian Guard, watched in a mixture of tiredness and concern as Queen Hippolyta and Phoebe, a scholar of old and ancient knowledge, read through the scrolls.

" The Gods have already given their blessing, my Queen. It is now up to you to create the...vessel, or form of the child. A mixture of sand and clay should do, as the texts and the Gods prescribe," the scholar said. The queen nodded, and sat on the ground, the sand shifting as she did so. Phoebe glanced at Phillipus. The captain of the guard looked back, and scowled. While there were few things on the island that could pose a threat, beyond some animals, the threat of an incursion by one of the Amazons ancient enemies, or at least enemies of one of their patron God's and Goddesses, was possible. As one of the queens most trusted guards, Phillipus was not comfortable leaving the queen alone on the beach.

" You know we cannot watch, Phillipus," the scholar said. "It is between the Gods and the Queen now. To stay would invite their displeasure..." the scholar said, a warning tone in her voice. Phillipus gave her a look, but nodded that she understood.

" I will be fine Phillipus. Go. I shall meet you as we agreed back at the palace when all is done. Do not worry, old friend."

Taking a deep breath, Phillipus nodded and saluted, before letting the breath out.

" Yes, my Queen. May the Gods grant you the boon you asked for."

With that, she was lead off by Phoebe, and soon, the beach was quiet except for the sound of the sea washing against the shore, and empty except for the queen and a few crabs that scuttled about in the dark. She sat quietly in the dark, before she began to move again. Carefully, using the wet sand near the edge of the water and clay that had been brought along, she began to sculpt, her mind set to the task. Over a period of time, several hours at least, she sculpted and modeled and formed the wet earth into a more definable shape. Finally, she was done, and held her creation aloft, examining it, her golden hair falling behind her head as she gazed up a little. [7]

_Hippolyta of the Amazons..._a voice from nearby said. She didn't turn, but recognized the voice. It was Athena.

_You have done as asked. Your boon will be granted. Hold the form higher. _This was Hestia. She did as asked, and one by one, the forms of several Gods and Goddesses stepped forward and breathed upon the still clay form.

_I give unto her the Eye of the Hunter and an affinity with animals, _said Artemis.

_I give unto her knowledge and wisdom, and the desire to learn, _said Athena.

_I give unto her beauty and grace, _said Aphrodite.

_I give unto her boundless strength, beyond even that of the strongest of the Amazons, and the will to use it, _said Demeter.

_I give unto her the abilities of speed and flight, _said Hermes.

_And to her I give her resistance to damage from flames, and the ability to tell when untruths and falsities are spoken, and what the truth is, _said Hestia.

As each granted their gifts, the clay and sand formed creation slowly changed. It became more, and more like a real child. As Hestia bestowed the last gift, the change was complete. Instead of a form of clay and sand, the queen now held a living, breathing baby girl, softly sleeping in her hands. Holding the child closer, she thanked them, but in a way that did not insult them. Each of the Gods nodded, and disappeared, their part done. Now, it was just Hippolyta and her new child alone on the beach. Standing up, she began to make her way back towards the Amazons main city on their island, heart filled with something she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't quite name it, but certainly it was a mixture of joy, pride, and happiness...something long gone from her heart in the amount it is now.

Hippolyta managed to return and enter the palace without much problem, partially because she took a side entrance off a quiet street, rather than through the main doors that opened on the main square of the city. She soon found Phoebe and Phillipus near her quarters.

" It is done then?" the captain of the guard asked. The queen nodded.

" It is. The gods have granted my request. Now I must rest, as well as the child."

Phoebe paused, while straightening the scrolls under her left arm.

" What shall you name her?"

Hippolyta looked at the child in her arms, stroking the black hair that had grown during the transformation from clay and sand to flesh and blood.

" Diana...yes, I shall name her Diana. Princess of the Amazons." she said, a note of pride in her voice. Even Phillipus, the normally resolute and soldiery captain of the guard, had slightly wet eyes, at the scene before her. No Amazon had seen a child in such a long time, that one among them now was something to behold. However, she did not say anything as the Queen and her new daughter made their way towards the royal quarters.

The Amazons had a Princess...and what portents that might bring would come in time.

**General Notes: **

**Hello all. This is a story I've been working on for some time. My love of alternate history and the classic _A Tale of the Batman: Gotham by Gaslight _comic brought this to fruition. Technically, this is the second edition, the first having been written at a time when I had less grasp of time and ability to write coherently. But I hope all the same that this story is entertaining and interesting to readers here, and if not, I am but a poor scribbler of words for not doing better. Anyways, what follows is some basic background and notes on this first bit.  
**

**I tend to borrow character elements from all over the DC universe, though most will before the New 52 series that DC is currently publishing (easier for me to work with, as the new stuff shifts a lot of origins and character backgrounds that I'm unfamiliar with, or don't wish to work with.) **

**This is obviously an Alternate Universe, and as such, events, characters, and the like are different from what readers and fans of comics may remember or know. I tend to think of this as a larger expanded Elseworlds story, with a wider emphasis on the effects of the DC superheroes/villains/characters on our worlds history. While this story will have romance, it is not intended to follow any particular couple exclusively, but will show how characters interact, feel, and basically differ not only from modern day interpretations, but also how the different social mores each may mold for themselves and their outward expression, might change the world. **

**Anyways, here are some minor notes on references for those who may not have the time or interest in digging about online for some of these things:**

[1] _I decided to place the Kents and Superman in Ohio instead of Kansas, as has been the tradition since the mid-sixties in most Superman background stories, as a change of pace from the norm, and also to allow Superman to be more involved in the Civil War, considering the widespread number of Ohio regiments which were involved in the various battles of the war. Secondly, the Kansas Territory at the time that Kal-El arrives on Earth in the 1840's, official settlements will take time to grow big enough by the time the territory is officially opened for settlement. Another reason is that Superman originally was in Cleveland way back when, before it becam Metropolis. So, its a bit of a tip of the hat to the original stories. _

[2] _Another comics reference, Johnathan Kent's name is a reference to one of the original names of the Kents, Eben and Sarah (which will be Martha's middle name in this version as well). _

[3] _Atticus is taken from the Elseworlds "Superman: A Nation Divided"._

[4] _Thomas Wayne's middle name refers to Judge Solomon Wayne, who is Thomas Wayne's grandfather in this universe (Bruces great-grandfather). _

[5] _Considering it would be another decade or so that a woman would have full doctoral training, Leslie Thompkins is a nurse at first. However, Thomas Wayne, in a show of thanks, sends her to higher medical school, and pulls some strings for her to be accepted without too much complaint. She'll still play an important role in Bruces life beyond just his birth. _

[6] _Anthony refers to Mad Anthony Wayne, who is sometimes depicted as an ancestor of Bruce Wayne. In this universe he is a distant cousin to the Gotham Waynes. _

[7] _The origin of Wonder Woman has varied ever since her conception as a character, either being a natural born daughter of Hippolyta and some God (currently Zeus in the New 52), clay figure brought to life (as shown here)._


	2. Chapter 1: Stormclouds of War - Pt I

**Chapter One: **  
**Storm-Clouds of War **  
**Pt. I**

_In Which A Hero Is Created • In Which An Officer Gives Consideration To Events • In Which A Congressman Meets Someone of Importance • In Which An Island Is Visited • In Which A Young Girl Utters A Strange Phrase • In Which A New Friend Is Made • In Which A Prince Is Visited • In Which A Spot Of Tea Offers Contemplation  
_

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Monterrey, Mexico_  
_September 23rd , 1846_

Captain Samuel Wilson, of the United States Regular Army, fired at a group of Mexican soldiers from behind cover as he and his men advanced through the city of Monterrey's streets. The Texans had briefed and trained some of the regulars on fighting more fluidly in a city, but even the few tricks they had taught the regulars weren't enough to entirely overwhelm the Mexican defenders. Bitter fighting had broken out between the invading American forces and the Mexican ones in the streets and homes of the cities outer edges, and the crackle of musket fire drifted in the air.

A Regular went down when a Mexican sniper managed to get him in the shoulder, the man yelling in pain as the musket ball smashed into bone and muscle, and blood began to come out of the wound. Two regulars fired their muskets at the sniper, though it was mainly blind firing. Another shot came whistling past, nearly getting one of the regulars who was moving up, but smashing into a wall behind the man. Another salvo from the American soldiers kept the snipers head down. Deciding that action was the better part of valor at this point

"Granger, Jones, come with me. We're going to see if we can clear that house out. The rest of you keep firing and make sure we're not flanked."

His men understood, and a fusillade of fire opened up on the house where the Mexicans had hunkered down. Wilson nodded at the two men he had asked to accompany him, and holding his revolver at the ready, made his way towards the house. They followed along, muskets at the ready, and bayonets in place. They could see other men going around the other side of the square, and a few gunshots could be heard from that side of the street. Samuel charged towards the door to the house where the sniper was, and kicked the door in, barreling through the doorway.

Too late Samuel relalized that the house was filled with a few more soldiers. A surprised Mexican soldier turned and fired. Samuel felt something hit him in the chest, and he fell to the floor with a look of surprise on his face. His vision began to blur out, as the sounds of battle raged around him.

And then what seemed for the longest time, all he saw was darkness...

"Samuel Wilson."

Samuel gazed up as he reopened his eyes, finding himself staring into a bright light, before a dark-figure blocked the light. He felt lighter, less...tied down. But he could have sworn he was dying...was this heaven?

"Wha...what happened? Where am I?"

"You are dying, Samuel Wilson. However your time on Earth has not yet ended."

"Who...who the blazes are you?"

The figure resolved into a late-middle aged man with a neatly trimmed white beard, and an identical uniform to Samuels own. He seemed aged, yet filled with boundless energy.

"I...am what you might call the Spirit of America. During the Revolution, I was known as the Patriot, or the Minute-Man. Since the second war against Great Britain, I have been known as Brother Johnathan."

He held out a hand, and pulled Samuel to his feet...or at least the spirit of Samuel. He saw his body still lying on the ground behind him. Yet, around him he could see a tableau of violence, blue-coated army regulars bayoneting or shooting Mexican soldiers and vice-versa, frozen in the midst of their various actions. The figure lead Samuel out the door he had entered and been shot at. After a minute the figure spread his hand to show the wider fighting around them, frozen in time.

"This war is part of a greater series of events of which this nation will be tried in. The Spirit of America reflects the state of the nation. However, I must bond with a willing host to walk on Earth. My last one died a natural death a few years ago. I have been wandering since then, seeing the division growing in the country."

Samuel listened, still shocked at this chain of events.

"For everything that we find to love about this nation, there are other things that make this nation hard to love at all. Slavery, anti-immigrant sentiments, racism, ageism...among things that won't come into the public consciousness for decades, the divisions are growing, and the country is on the verge of the proverbial final blow to the wedge that may forever divide the country."

"Division?"

"You have heard of the rumblings in both north and south about the issue of slavery in the territories and new states.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"As I said, I need a host. So that I can walk the world in mortal and physical form. To change the world for the better, and to give this nation direction. I am nothing if I cannot help this nation shape its destiny, and prevent the injustices that are coming. You are a man worthy of helping in this manner."

Samuel stared at the scene around them, and stared back at the figure. He was still rather numb about everything.

"Now it is time for you to return to your body, with your acceptance of this. It will not take long...but there may be some, changes...and a bit of time has passed as well."

Samuel merely nodded that he agreed. If this was a way to stay alive a bit longer, hell he'd agree to anything. And there were worse things he supposed, than sharing a body with a spirit dedicated to helping the nation. As he finished his nodding, he felt himself being pulled back into his body, while the spirit disappeared. Yet, Samuel could feel the spirits presence nearby, as though only a few feet away. He felt his soul and life-force returning to the body with much more rapidity than when he had left, and again for a time, all he saw was the darkness.

As Samuel found himself back in his body, his soul joined with the Spirit, he woke up quickly, nearly ramming his head into the surprised face of a field surgeon. The man nearly fainted, while another surgeon nearby looked on in a mixture of horror and surprise. Panting, Samuel looked at him, and found that his shirt had been cut off, and the place where the bullet wound had entered his chest, completely healed.

The surgeon next to him looked at him and ran from the tent screaming for a orderly to take a note, while the other surgeon edged back.

"What the hell are you?" the man said.

"What?"

"You came in with a bullet to the chest. You were dead just a minute ago..."

Samuel sighed. He believed he was going to be in the center of something troublesome now...

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_United States Army Encampment_  
_Outside Monterrey, Mexico _  
_September 24th, 1846_

First Lt. George H. Thomas glared in the brightness of the desert sun. Mexico was a hot, humid land where they currently were, and the particular brightness of today annoyed his eyes quite a bit. Currently the army was encamped outside the city where they had managed to defeat the enemy forces under General Pedro de Ampudia. Even now, the Mexican men that were still alive or not too wounded to be forced to stay, were walking out of the city without arms or artillery. The defenders had given a good go, but after four days, their forces surrendered. Now his men were busy taking care of the cannons and horses in their company, and preparing to move as needed.

He considered things as he gazed out at the marching soldiers of the United States claiming the city for

However, his ears heard after a minute the sounds of a man huffing and puffing up behind him, before managing to wheeze out a weak,"Sir."

Thomas turned to see one of the surgeons orderlies looking at him.

"Yes, orderly?"

"Lieutenant Thomas, there's been a bit of a problem in the medical tent. The chief surgeon said he wanted to see the nearest officer of rank."

Thomas gave him a look.

"And did he say why, orderly?"

"Well, sir, it was in his words had to do with "dead rising from the operating table."

At that even the normally stoic Thomas was surprised.

"The dead have risen?"

"Well, more like one of them. But he was dead, Surgeon Reynolds said he knew a dead man with a spurting chest wound, and a live man...and the dead have risen, he says."

"Hrmmm..." Thomas grumbled. "I don't suppose he's had a bit of a nip at the medical brandy too often, has he?"

"No sir...he's a teetolar."

Sighing again, Thomas stood up taller.

"Fine, lead me to Surgeon Reynolds. I want to see this dead man."

The orderly nodded, and began to lead Lt. Thomas through the camp to the medical tents, which thankfully were close by. Inside he found an elderly looking captain sitting on a operating table, while several surgeons stood nervously nearby.

"What the devil is going on?"

Surgeon Reynolds pointed at the slightly confused looking officer.

"First off, that man was near death when he arrived. Then he came back. But that's not all. He was originally a twenty-nine year old man. Now look at him."

Thomas nodded, and glanced. Indeed, the man looked like someones elderly, if clearly healthy and muscular grandfather. At the report of the changes, the officer in question glanced at a nearby bowl filled with water and stared at his reflection. A cry of surprise and possibly fear permeated the air, and the captain slumped over into unconsciousness.

"Well, Surgeon Reynolds, what happened to the man?" Thomas asked, trying to figure this out.

The surgeon threw his hands up.

"I don't know. Its a damned mystery how a dead man comes in looking one way, and then changes in the midst of the operating room to look like another, alive man."

Lt. Thomas merely sighed. This was going to be hard to explain to the higher ups. After all, what was one supposed to do in this sort of situation? Hope that it was all some mistake? Clearly make sure that the surgeon was both sober and not overly tired from long hours that such a mistake could be made...

The unconscious form of the miracle captain sat up suddenly.

"Captain Wilson?" Lt. Thomas said.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid Captain Samuel Wilson is unavailable right now. However you can address me directly as needed."

Thomas glanced at the fellow.

"And who are you, if not Captain Wilson? And what has happened to him."

The figure paused, as if considering something. He then turned, a gleam of energy in his eyes.

"You may call me...Uncle Sam. And as to your second question...well, its a rather long story... "

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Washington, D.C. _  
_April 10th, 1847 _

Being the new representative from Illinois's Seventh District, Abraham Lincoln had only two years in which to make an impact on Washington, for good or worse. Pledging that he would serve only a single term in office limited him by how much he could do, but prevented the complacency that he would still have office next election, and would allow him to concentrate on the important matters at hand. Such as the current war with Mexico. That was trouble indeed. Already there were debates in the halls of Congress on what was going to happen when it was all over.

The issue of slavery in any newly acquired territory from this little war of Mr. Polks War was having the abolitionists and pro-slavery proponents in Congress at each others throat. And with the war having taken a strange turn the fall before and the Mexican Army folding up in a series of battles, and the capital city under seige by American forces, it would be hard for many opposing congressmen to decry the war now that the American Army and volunteers had seemingly won with very few losses.

"Mr. Lincoln."

Abraham turned to find himself being addressed by an officer of the navy in dress uniform.

"My apologies if I do not recognize you sir, I have only been here a few weeks."

The officer nodded.

"Of course. My name is King Faraday. I'm part of a group of officers in both the army and navy who are dealing with the events out west."

"Ah, the war."

"Yes, sir. And other things."

Abraham blinked.

"Now, I suppose there is some reason you wished to speak with me, Lieutenant Faraday? I cannot think of many reasons why a naval officer would wish to speak to a single-term representative from Illinois."

"Sir, I've read about you. You're an honest man, and congress and the nation needs me with integrity."

"Lieutenant, you give me more than I deserve. I'm merely a backwoods lawyer. I do what I can, to be sure, but I realize I can't change or influence as much as I'd like."

Faraday rolled his shoulders.

"Still, its rare for a congressman to declare they'd run for one term and intend to keep that promise."

"Two-years should be enough for a man to represent the needs of the people, I reckon. But others don't feel the same here, and I know it won't be popular. Yet its a promise I intend to keep. Perhaps I'll go back to being a lawyer in Springfield. Or run for something on a local level back home."

"I do wish you luck if you do. But perhaps a man such as yourself might be able to influence things more if he looked higher."

"I suppose I shall think on that, but I doubt I may do much on it."

Faraday coughed.

"Mr. Lincoln, there was something I wished to speak with you about beyond simply your future in politics."

"Ah, there always is something else."

"Heh. No, what I mean to talk to you about is the incidents out west. My fellow officers and I would wish to speak to a few members of Congress about this, since we believe an agency dedicated to intelligence and some...other things, is needed."

Lincoln inclined his head.

"Well, I cannot say that such a thing would go through currently, but I suppose if you wish to introduce such a measure as a bill, we could assist at least in looking at the chances of such a measure passing."

"That is all I ask Mr. Lincoln. Now, I've taken up your time. I shouldn't keep you longer."

"Thank you Lieutenant Faraday. And a good day to you. Perhaps we shall meet again someday after all this horse dealing and trading is discussed."

"And the same to you Mr. Lincoln."

With that, the two parted, heading off to their respective jobs, and destinies...

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Themyscira, Isle of the Amazons_  
_June 12th, 1847 _

Phoebe, head of the scribes and scholars of the Amazons, glanced at the young girl in front of her, who was currently transcribing Aliones "_The Siege of Troy_" onto a blank piece of parchment in front of her. The scribbling of the pen, the dipping of it in ink, all happened at such a pace. Already seven, and she was displaying many abilities that even a normal Amazon would take decades or even a century to develop to their highest form. Phillipus was already complaining that she would soon run out of her best warriors that could teach the young princess anything new. Indeed, Phoebe herself wondered if the library of Themyscira would be enough to sate the young princesses desire for knowledge.

"Lógios Phoebe, I am done with the transcribing."

Phoebe sat up, having not realized the time that had passed.

"Already? But it has barely been a half of an hour since you began."

The young girl blushed for a second, but handed over neatly transcribed scrolls of the other work, blotted and unstained as many others would have problems with. The entire work had been transcribed in less time than it had taken to originally write it.

"My, you are quick, young princess." Phoebe said. "Shall we start on the next subject, or do wish a small break?"

The princess paused.

"Lógios Phoebe, I was actually wondering...mother says there are rare scrolls here, from a departed Amazonian scholar by the name of Selene. Taken from what were the far eastern edges of the world. With fighting styles different from our own."

Phoebe paused. She wondered if the special collection might be broached. While most material from Patriarchs World was kept locked away from those not granted the permission to view them by Hippolyta herself, some were kept available for study. Such were the collections of Selene, who tragically had perished of disease before the events which lead to the Amazons exile from Patriarchs World.

"Yes. Selene of Athens, one of our youngest scholars in the old days. She and a few others traveled in secret to the Far East, where they did pick up such knowledge and transcribe it. But I'm not sure it would be appropriate to read them. After all, what would Phillipus say if you used them instead of her teachings?"

Diana let out a breath.

"But that is the point, isn't it? To be a model warrior and scholar, I need to know more than what is available from our own people and culture. A well-rounded warrior can be more flexible on the battlefield. And what happens should I end up outside our borders, or enemies come to our gates? I must be able to defend our home as best as possible."

Phoebe sighed. She had a point, a true scholar and warrior would use everything that they could learn for the best purposes of defense. And unfortunately there had been a prophesy from one of the temple priestesses concerning the young child a year after her "birth". The vagueness left some interpreters puzzled, but all that could be said to be certain was that the Princess would at some point leave for mans world, sailing away in a ship of the dark clouds. Beyond that, it was hard for interpretation, so vague was the wording. She turned to the Princess.

"Alright, but only for a quarter of an hour. Your mother would not be happy if she found your prescribed studies were taken up by other things."

Diana nodded, and Phoebe took the large brass key from around her neck. Few things on Themyscira were locked, but those objects in the special collection were, mainly to keep curiosity seekers out. Nodding that the Princess should follow, she lead her down the rows of scrolls towards the locked room where the special material was kept.

"Now, you mustn't tell your mother or use what you learn in front of Phillipus, understand?"

The Princess nodded eagerly, and followed along. She was excited about the prospect of learning something secret, something she could keep to herself and Logiós Phoebe. And it might prove practical, should she ever have to venture outside of her lands borders. Something which she had to admit, had fascinated her ever since her mother had told her tales of the world beyond Themyscira, even if she was confused by the tales at times. She cleared her thoughts as she remembered that Phoebe was talking to her.

"...and this is a tome on the martial arts of the land known as Zhongguo_."_

Diana nodded, and began to glance at the tome once it had been placed before her. It was fascinating to learn such things of the lands outside Themyscira. And it was her little secret...

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Dresden, Kingdom of Prussia_  
_June 16th, 1847 _

Maria Blomfield glanced about the busy marketplace she was currently wandering through in the heart of Dresden. For as long as she had remembered, she'd had to live alone on the streets of the city. She remembered a family, but she had been so young at the time that the memories that were there were vague, undefined. Growing up in Dresden, one of the busiest and oldest cities in the German, she'd had to beg at times, do menial jobs at other times, or even steal a little, though she never stole too much and always shared with the other street children and homeless and destitute that were ignored by other elements of society.

She paused in front of a fruit stand, one owned by Mr. Konigblum, a Jewish man who was nice to the destitute peoples of the city more than other merchants were. He saw her and waved.

"Ah, Maria. How good to see you. I was wondering where you were."

"Georg is a bit poorly, Mr. Konigblum. Me and the others were trying to help him get a bit comfortable."

Mr. Konigblum nodded.

"Well, if you were helping a friend, I suppose that's alright. Listen, the area around my stall has gotten rather messy of late. Why don't you help me by tidying up a little around here. If you do a good job, I'll give you a full twelve Pfennige for your troubles. Perhaps a little extra if its really good work. What do you say?"

It was not often that someone would pay a full twelve Pfennige for such work, especially to what might be termed "street rats". But twleve Pfennige was more than none, even if their purchasing value was low. And it would go towards the small collection of coins she had going back at what could be deemed her home.

"Sure Mr. Konigblum."

The old man nodded, and handed her a broom and metal pan.

"Good. Now, the rubbish dump is behind Mr. Kessels stand, so you'll want to dump what you gather up back there."

She nodded that she understood. Seeing that she needed no further lecturing, he returned to his business, while Maria set about her job. Though it was hard work, after a few hours she'd managed to get the area around Mr. Konigblums stall tidy enough to be presentable. After she made her last trip to the rubbish tip, she headed back to his stand, where the elderly stall-keeper was looking around at her finished work.

"You did a good job, Maria. Here is the promised amount, with a bonus," the old man said with a wink and smile. "Use it as you see fit."

Maria nodded, and saying her goodbyes and promising to come back in a couple days to help again, ran off to the nearest medcine seller. The man behind the counter glanced at her.

"And what do you want?"

"Some cough medicine, please." she said.

"That will be eight Pfennige."

Realizing that would take most of the money, she paused on whether to continue. But Georg was poorly. And it was the rule of the streets to help others in need. Nodding, she handed over the amount. The medicine seller curtly plunked down a large vial of cough medicine, counted the coins, nodded, and waved for her to get out. Moving quickly, she scooped up the medicine and dashed out, heading to the place where in this part of town, several children of the streets lived together.

When she arrived, she saw Beatrice and Christian attending to Georg.

"How is he?"

"Little better. His coughing still wracks him when his awake, and even asleep his breathing is bad." the older girl said. Maria nodded, sadly, before handing over the vial of cough medicine.

"I got this for him."

Beatrice glanced at it in surprise, before shaking her head.

"I won't ask how you afforded it, but thank you all the same. It may not cure him, but it should give him some comfort."

She had Christian hold Georgs mouth open, and she poured in a small measure of the golden liquid, before letting the sleeping Georg swallow it. After a time, his breathing became less labored.

"There. He should sleep well until morning. Perhaps even a bit later."

Standing up, the other girl brushed off her dirty skirt and glanced at Maria.

"You did a good thing, Maria. Some others in the other parts of town would have used any money they found or earned solely for themselves. Thank you."

Maria nodded, and yawned.

"I'm...feeling rather sleepy."

Beatrice nodded.

"Sleep well Maria." she said, before turning to Christian and ushering him to the other side of the small sleeping area where about eight others were already. Maria headed to her small pallet and lay down upon it, too tired to even get something to eat. Soon, Maria drifted off to sleep, her tiredness conquering all.

During the night, she slept fitfully, her dreams filled with strange images and people. Yet, she also woke slowly up from her dreaming, as though something was calling her. Bleary eyed, the young girl stumbled awake to find it was near midnight, and she could barely see except for some of the light cast by the dying fire nearby, and a street-lamp at the end of the alley.

_Maria. Maria Blomfield, _she heard clearly being spoken in her head. As she stumbled down the alley towards the street-lamp, she could make out a wizened old man, with a long white beard, and a longer, also white frock coat and suit, standing at the edge of the alley. Though she was at first apprehensive, the mans appearance and manner seemed to be harmless enough.

"Hello...who are you?"

The figure looked down at her, and nodded.

"I have come to talk...and give you a gift, if you are willing to accept it."

Maria briefly ran through responses, but all seemed to lead to her natural curiosity deciding to figure out what this man wanted instead of running back down the alley to her friends.

"Alright, but that doesn't answer who you are."

He gave a chortle.

"Clever. I have long forgotten my birth name, but the one that I take now is a bit unusual. Suffice to say, I am a wizard. I know you don't believe me, but I can prove it."

With a snap of his fingers, she suddenly found herself along with the old man in a dark, cavern, with a lighted passage ahead.

"Where...where are we?"

"My home. Don't worry, time is different here. I can take you back to the alley end and it will have been seconds there instead of minutes or an hour here."

Maria was too bewildered to understand exactly, but nodded weakly. However, she plucked up some of her courage as he began to head down the nearby hallway.

"Why did you come to me, though, to just show me this? I'm nothing special. There must be others more interesting to bring here..."

The elderly man gave a small smile. He pulled at his long white frock-coat, and continued to lead her on down the strange hall-way.

"My dear Maria, I would not have come if you were not worthy. You have show compassion and kindness, when so many would do the opposite. You fight to survive, but not at the cost of others. That is admirable. Also, you spirit fits with the gift I wish to give you."

Maria glanced at the strange statues that lined the walls of the final room they had entered. They were hideous and ugly. The man himself seemed to glare at each of them.

"The seven sins of the world, locked up in stone at great time and effort. Lust, Envy, and all the rest, imprisoned. Yet they can still influence the world, even if not to the degree they wished or once could."

Again, she was confused, but listened as he continued.

"And this...is the Rock of Eternity."

She turned to see him gesturing to the whole cavern they were in.

"Made from a slice from heaven and hell, this is my home, and contains not just the sins, but something worse. Something I have dedicated my life to ensuring it would never escape."

Maria gave him a look of confusion.

"Need not worry yourself about the exact nature, only that it does exist. But I feel it is time for me to tell you of the gift I have to offer. I grow old, and while my time amongst the living shall end not quite yet, it is approaching. This place needs a guardian. And the world needs help. Which you can do if you accept."

Maria gave him a look.

"How?"

The old man turned to the far wall for a second, before turning back, and in his hand was a golden torch holder.

"Hold this."

Maria took it, and tried to hold it steadily, but it was very heavy.

"Now, say the following. Omni Flunki Weran Hyan SHAZAM!"

Maria said the words. Suddenly, she felt herself being filled with energy, and she stumbled back for a second before being blinded in a flash of light. When she regained her sight, she felt odd. Then she looked down. Her arms were longer, and she felt like she was floating. Which upon checking again, she was.

"What?"

"You are flying...or hovering, but the concept can be turned into flying," the wizard called Shazam said. "It is one of the many powers granted to you by those my name stands for, which are:

S is for the wisdom of Solomon;  
H is for the strength of Hercules;  
A is for the stamina of Atlas;  
Z is for the power of Zeus;  
A is for the courage of Achilles;  
M is for the speed of Mercury.

Maria nodded. She then noticed that she was wearing a white costume, with a short cape, gold chain and clasp holding it around her shoulder, and a brilliant gold lightning bolt on the front of her costumes tunic.

"You are no longer merely Maria Blomfield. You are Maria Wunder, hero. When you wish to change, merely speak my name and the transformation will happen in an instant. Though be careful of where you do so. It would be unwise and unsafe to transform in front of others. You have a different form and outfit, to ensure your true identity is kept secure."

She paused, then said his name. With a crack, she found herself back as normal Maria Blomfield again, on the ground and wearing barely recognizable clothing.

"Wow..."

"Now, this comes with great responsibility. It must not be used for evil."

He turned grave at that point.

"Otherwise, you may end up where a previous benafactee of a gift similar to this did. Imprisoned beneath the sands of the Egyptian soil, in a living sleep eternal, by his own hubris."

Maria gulped. But she toughed up a second later.

"I'll use these as best I can to help others, sir."

The old man nodded.

"I sensed as much. Now, you must be getting back to your home. It may still be the same time here, but you are getting tired."

Maria nodded weakly. She did feel tired. With a snap of his fingers, Shazam transported them both back to the alley. She wandered over from where she had been

"Go, Maria Blomfield. We shall see each other again..."

Maria weakly waved, and wandered back to her pallet. Soon, she fell asleep, and dreamed of recent events. And of events she did not understand, but felt she would be part of. Of wars, of battles, of friends. Of places and people she had not met, but would meet. Of the future...

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Smallville, Ohio _  
_June 20th, 1847_

Johnathan Kent wiped his brow and looked out at the wide fields in front of him from the houses porch. Several years of successes in farming had allowed him to buy larger parcels of land. And yet, he didn't need to hire more hands. Namely because he son was more than enough help...

"John, could you tell Clark to come in?" his wife Martha said from the kitchen. "It's almost lunch-time."

Johnathan paused, tipped his hat back and headed out to the eastward fields.

"Clark...Clark!"

The boy stopped rolling a wagon filled with feed and seeds from the barn, and looked at him.

"Yes, Pa?"

"Ma' says its time for lunch."

"Alright Pa...let me get this back into the barn for now."

Within an instant, the wagon had been pushed back into the barn, and the young lad was standing in front of Johnathan. It was hard to believe that this seven year old child was seven, since he looked nearly twice that age. He came with his father to the farmhouse, where Martha Kent was setting up for lunch.

"I see you boys are finally ready."

Johnathan nodded.

"Indeed Ma. Clark was busy doing some last minute chores."

Clark gave a bit of a grin, and twirled the little spit-curl of hair that dangled down from his bangs, a motion he did when nervous or when needing to do something with his hands.

"Well, that is good. Anyways, I was talking to Wilma Haskill, and she was talking about that new family that moved into town."

"The one who own all those factories and railway lines?"

Martha nodded.

"They're from back east, from Metropolis it seems, but the father wanted to move out here to raise his family."

"One wonders why, seeing as everyone wants to go to the city it seems, rather than come out here."

"Well, I don't know, but I assume it might be for health reason. There son is rather sickly, or so I've heard."

"That's too bad," Johnathan said. "Where are they living?"

"Old Doc Philips place. Also heard they're going to be expanding it."

Johnathan merely nodded and tucked into lunch. For awhile, the three simply sat in silence, before the sound of knocking on the front door came to the table.

"Odd..." Johnathan said, wiping his chin with a cloth before standing up. "Who would be calling at this hour?"

Deciding to find out, he headed to the front door, and opened it. Standing there were three people, a middle-aged gentleman in a suit, a woman in fine dress, and a young boy with red hair squirming in an uncomfortable suit. The man looked like he'd been exerting himself in some

"Hello, is something the matter?" Johnathan asked.

"Yes, our carriage horses broke free, and got loose in your fields. We've been trying to get them, but to no avail."

Johnathan nodded, but sighed internally.

"Need some help?"

"It would be appreciated, Mr...?"

"Kent. Johnathan Kent. Well, come with me...your family can stay with mine while we round your team up."

The other man nodded, and followed Johnathan out to the fields. Meanwhile, Martha and Clark stayed with the mans wife and son. When the horses had been captured and re-harnessed back onto the small coach the trio had been riding in, the two men headed back to the house. They found that Martha and the mans wife had gotten to talking, while the two boys were discussing steam power.

"Well, we can go dear." the man said. "Mr. Kent here was kind enough to get our team back quicker than I could."

She nodded.

"Alright Thomas. Are you ready to go dear?" she said to their son.

"Yes mother. But can we come back again?"

"We'll see. First we have to get home. Now, say thank you to the Kents for being kind enough to let us in for the time your father and Mr. Kent was busy."

"Alright..." he said. The boy held out his hand to Clark.

"Thank you. It was nice to talk to someone else who shares my interests in locomotives and steam engines."

"Same here. But I never caught your name."

The boy gave an embarrassed grin.

"Names Theodore Kord. Ted to my friends." And with that, the family Kord left, leaving the Kents to continue on. For Clark, it was to be the first meeting with one of his first best friends now and later in life.

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Buckingham Palace, London_  
_August 6th, 1847 _

His Royal Highness, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, and Duke of Saxony glanced out one of the windows of the royal apartments, and sighed internally at the dreary rain falling on the capital city. Next to him, his unofficial counselor Christian Friedrich, Baron Stockmar was reviewing some papers.

"I have heard that the Prince is proving to have some difficulties with his studies," the Prince said.

The Baron nodded imperceptibly.

"Unfortunately so, your highness. His teacher states that your son is quick on some subjects, but on others he suffers greatly. Already there has been at least one account of your son dashing books and pens to the floor in frustration."

Albert sighed internally, but kept his emotions controlled.

"He must learn that what we are doing are in his best interests, and for the greater interests of Great Britain. An educated ruler who is molded to be the epitome of human intellect is the only thing that will allow Great Britain to remain secure. Already there are rumblings in Europe, talks of revolutionaries and others who are displeased with their monarchs and leaders. And who can blame them, Stockmar? Some are ill-equipped to rule."

Stockmar nodded, setting down the papers in his hand.

"The problem is, your highness, is that your son lacks discipline and the feeling of responsibility to apply himself as needed. His teachers say that he can on certain subjects, know enough to be quite informed. But others...the prince has certain trouble with."

Albert gave the older man a glance.

"We cannot allow what may be potential idleness and laziness to form in my sons head. Ensure that his instructors know that."

"Yes, your highness." Stockmar said. He glanced at his pocket-watch.

"It is nearly time for your meeting with Sir Jason Blood, your highness."

Albert nodded.

"If he is here, tell him I shall meet him in the private lounge. If he is not, make sure he knows when he does arrive."

Bowing, Stockmar left and headed to were guests would normally be asked to wait. Inside, he found the familiar face of Sir Jason Blood reading a newspaper quietly. The man nodded and stood up when Stockmar entered.

"Sir Jason, I see you have arrived early."

"The news I bring for his highness is important enough to necessitate my coming earlier than expected, Baron Stockmar." Blood replied evenly.

"Of course, Sir Jason."

He gestured that Sir Jason should follow him to where Prince Albert was waiting. After being ushered in, and the formalities done and over, Stockmar left to deal with the problems of educating the Prince of Wales. Albert paused, and then stared at Sir Jason, who was standing. Finally sitting, the Prince beckoned that Sir Jason should do the same.

"What news do you bring, Sir Jason?"

The older man, though he did not look his years, nodded, and pulled out several documents and maps.

"I have found evidence of interference in several affairs across the continent involving the darker arts. In Vienna, the chief of police was killed in unusual circumstances...though my sources say he was working with the Church of Blood. In France, their reach is to be found in the darkest corners of the capital city. Even a few priests of the  
Catholic faith have professed their devotion to the dark demon Trigon."

Albert sighed.

"This is worrying. We cannot allow the spread of these demon  
worshippers any further."

"No, we cannot, your highness. Especially since news from the realm of the high demon indicates he has recently through a human woman, conceived a daughter."

The Prince paused, and drummed his fingers on his chairs armrests.

"Where is she now?"

Sir Jason pulled out a large tome.

"Azarath. She's being cared for by the monks of that realm."

"I see. She is important, is she not?"

Sir Jason gave a grim nod, and pulled out a chart.

"If the demon Trigon regains enough power, and controls her, it will allow him to use her as a key to increase power and enter not just the other planes, but this world. His power will be beyond normal comprehension, but the intersection of even one of the other planes and this world will result in destruction and the end times as it were."

The Prince gave a bitter look.

"And we can do nothing?"

"Unfortunately so, your Highness. Until she reaches an age of comprehension, she must stay there. The monks there though, will assist her in controlling her emotions. That is how Trigon will return, if she allows free reign of her emotions without control. And other means."

This news was disturbing and worrying.

"So our only route, you are saying Sir Jason, is that we must trust these monks to protect what might be a key to doomsday?"

The other man nodded.

"Yes. Trigon is weakened, so it may be a long time before she becomes old enough to be useful to him."

"Then that is what we must do, then."

The Prince sighed.

"Thank you for your work, Sir Jason. Your council since the Oxford Incident on the forces that we were unaware of until now, has been been invaluable."

The other man nodded.

"I aim to serve her majesty, the nation, and the world, your highness."

"Which is greatly appreciated."

Sir Jason collected his things.

"I must continue on with the remains of the order, your highness. If I may?"

Albert nodded.

"You are excused, Sir Jason. I hope to see you again under better circumstances later."

The other man merely gave a small smile, and replied.

"And I as well, your highness. I shall see you later."

He headed out of the room, leaving Prince Albert to consider the news. More and more he learned that their world was not as small or as alone as many believed. The would be assassin Edward Oxford had been under the thrall of demon from the netherworlds during his attempt, but thankfully Jason Blood had been there during the attempt to thwart it. While Victoria merely believed him a erstwhile savior, Albert had learned that Jason was in fact a several hundred year old knight, cursed to walk the earth bound with a demon for his failure to protect Camelot.

Now, he served as an adviser to the Prince about the more mysterious and out there elements of the world. It was his help that had kept Britain from losing most of Scotland to the sea due to the actions of a warlock called Felix Faust to bring about the end of the world.

And with this latest news, Prince Albert was worried. What could this demon, and its child do to destroy the world? Might it be possible for her to be given a chance to act against her father?

He sighed.

Such questions might be a long time coming before being answered...

- O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O -

_Wayne Manor, Gotham City _  
_September 3rd, 1847 _

Thomas Wayne sipped at his tea as he sat in his office in Wayne Manor, and glanced the relatively clear, if somewhat nippy day out. It was rare that Gotham would have clear weather for such a long stretch, but when it it did, it was something to savor. Martha was with her mother in Metropolis, so the house was being shared by the two men and the seven year old boy. Normally, there would be more servants, but a decision to save money for charitable purposes and to try and be more useful around their house.

Alfred Pennyworth was busy tidying up nearby. He'd been the only servant retained, for his years of service and abilities.

"Alfred...am I good father?"

The butler paused in his cleaning ministrations.

"If you'll beg my pardon, Master Thomas, but why do you ask the question?"

Thomas sipped at his tea for a second.

"Because...well, because I'm worried I'll repeat how my father raised me."

"Master Solomon was a different person than yourself, Master Thomas. You have a wider understanding of the world than he did, if you'll beg my being somewhat blunt. You seek to be a good man and a good father, even if at times you fall into patterns that remind you of your fathers behavior. Your son, Master Bruce is growing into a fine young man."

Thomas Wayne put his tea cup down.

"But can I keep being a good father? My job, this life...I feel as though I'll be forced to do what society demands in treating him."

"Society cannot demand anything sir. It can only pressure through ones own doubts and desires to fit in, that one conform."

Thomas nodded at that.

"I see. Thank you Alfred."

"You are welcome, Master Thomas."

Nodding again his thanks, Thomas opened a nearby paper and began to read while finishing his tea. A little advice and encouraging from a man he considered more friend than servant, had set his mind at ease. Perhaps...perhaps he would be able to be a good father, and not become another Solomon Wayne.


End file.
